


Clumsy

by AnnieVH



Series: Behind Closed Doors [7]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Child Abuse, Domestic Violence, F/M, Gen, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 18:07:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2631233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieVH/pseuds/AnnieVH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baelfire realized mommy wasn’t as nice as he thought she was when he was seven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clumsy

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to fill this prompt (http://rumbelleprompts.tumblr.com/post/90082568530/rumple-milah-neal-belle-tw-domestic) for a while now, so I decided to do it as one-shots pertaining to the same verse (Behind Closed Doors), since I lack the attention span for multi-chapter. If anybody wants to send me ideas and prompts, I need them very much.
> 
> A companion piece for this picspam (http://annievh.tumblr.com/post/102166515522/behind-closed-doors-warnings-domestic-abuse).
> 
> Pairings for this verse: eventual Rumbelle and Swanfire.  
> Warnings for this verse: abusive relationship, implied non-con situations, child-abuse, violence, infidelity, very anti-Milah.
> 
> A HUGE THANKS to Maddie for betaing it so fast!

Baelfire realized that mommy wasn’t as nice as he thought she was when he was seven.

He knew mommy had a temper, which was something his father had always warned him about in whispers, usually after he caught them in a fight.

“That is nothing, my dear,” his father would say, once his mother stormed out, slamming the door behind herself. “She’s just got a nasty temper. Better stay out of her way tonight.”

But even that was told in a half-amused tone, as if that was only one more trait in Milah that his father adored. In an hour or two, she’d be in his room, reading him fairy tales and giving him a goodnight kiss.

That day, mommy got angry from the moment she got out of bed. He could tell by the way she did everything – from closing the fridge to pushing back her chair – without smiling and with an aggressive speed. Papa always spoke to her in a cautious tone when she was like that. Not that she ever repaid the favor.

“I have no idea why you don’t want me to be with my son,” she snapped.

Bae looked at his mother. Her mouth was a thin line, and she wasn’t looking at either of them when she spoke.

“Honey, that is not what I said at all,” Rumple told her, very sweetly, ignoring the food in front of him. “You just don’t look well. I thought you might benefit from staying at home and having a day to yourself.”

“Are you feeling sick, mommy?” Bae asked, over his bowl of cereal.

She turned to him and her mouth relaxed into a smile. “Of course not, my darling. It’s just that daddy is an idiot who thinks women shouldn’t feel angry.”

Before Rumple could defend himself, she got up and left the kitchen, leaving her husband to stare after her, baffled.

“Why shouldn’t women feel angry?” Bae asked him.

“Mommy is kidding,” he said, getting up. “Women should feel whatever they want.”

“Is mommy not coming with us anymore because she’s angry?”

“Yes.”

“Why is mommy angry?”

Exhaustion finally got to his voice when he murmured, “The hell if I know.”

Bae gave him large, confused eyes.

Rumple rubbed his face and told him, “Why don’t you finish your chips and brush your teeth so we can get going? I’ll go talk to mommy and let her know everything is alright.”

Baelfire did as he was told, swallowing his lunch as fast as he could. He had been looking forward to Saturday the whole week. Mommy was always at home to take care of him, but Papa had to work in his shop, and collect rent, and do a lot of other important grown up things Bae didn’t quite understand yet. All he knew was that they made Papa very busy and both hardly ever had any time to be together.

He did love mommy and maybe he should be sad she wasn’t coming along anymore, but, as it turned out, he was feeling even more excited. Mommy was great, but she said mean things sometimes, even if Papa never seemed to take them seriously, a little hint of sorrow behind his eyes. Bae didn’t want to see Papa sad today.

He was almost done with brushing his teeth, wondering about the many things they could do together, when he heard the loud thump on the other side of the door. Followed by father’s scream.

Between spitting the foam out of his mouth and drying his face with a towel, mommy had already come down the stairs when he opened the door and peered out. When she saw him, she stepped over his father, as if he wasn’t sprawled on the floor.

He looked up her legs with a grimace, surprise spreading itself all over his face. She didn’t even look down.

“Hey there, sweetheart, are you ready?” mommy said, cheerfully.

Bae started for his father. “Papa!”

“Papa is fine, come here, sweetheart,” his mother said, picking him up and taking him away.

His father looked after them, too shocked to say anything. Bae squirmed and called for him until they got to the backyard, when she finally let him go.

“Easy, Bae, it’s alright,” she said, as sweet as ever.

“He’s hurt!” he whined, eyes full of tears. “He’s hurt! We have to help him!”

“Who? Papa? No!” She giggled. “Clumsy Papa just fell down the stairs. He’s alright. I already talked to him.”

“No!” he insisted, trying to get away from her and back into the house but she blocked his way easily. “He was hurt! He was crying!”

“Sweetie, Papa is alright,” she replied. “He’s a very strong man. You know that, don’t you?”

Mommy was smiling with such confidence that Bae stopped struggling.

Bae sniffed. “Do you promise?”

“Of course I do, Bae. I’d never lie to you. He’s alright. He just hurt his ankle a little bit, that’s all. So clumsy.”

She giggled again.

Bae didn’t.

She brushed the tears off his face.

“All he needs is a few hours to rest, that is all.”

“And can we help him?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think he needs our help, sweetheart. He just needs to stay at home and have a day to himself. We can go and have some fun ourselves. How about that?”

“But I want to take care of Papa.”

Her smile didn’t falter for one second. “You are such a good son, did you know that? Such a special boy. That is why we love you so much. But Papa will actually get better faster if we get out of his way.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course! He’ll just stay in, and watch some TV, and read a book. When we come back, he’ll be up again.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

“Can we come back early?”

“Of course we can. So? Do I still have company for the park?”

Bae hesitated. But nodded.

She smiled. “My beautiful boy.” And gave him a kiss on the cheek before picking him up again.

She carried him around the house.

“Aren’t we seeing Papa before we leave?”

“Oh no, he’s probably busy already. We don’t want to get in the way, do we?”

“But what if he needs anything?”

She seemed to consider it. “Yes. You’re probably right.” She strapped him in the backseat of the Cadillac before saying, “You wait here. I’ll check on Rumple.”

She went inside and, not even two minutes later, she was already back, carrying her purse.

“Is Papa alright?”

“He’s great.” She started the car and turned back to give him a reassuring smile. “So, ready to have fun?”

*

Milah took him to the playground first, but having fun with a cloud of worries hovering over his head was not easy. She told him to run around with the other kids while she tried to engage in conversation with their mothers, which wasn’t so simple. Bae had noticed long ago that mommy didn’t fit in as easily as Papa did. Maybe it was because she was too young, or because she never held her opinions to herself.

Or maybe she tried to get close to the wrong kind of people. Milah would often find her way to Cora’s side and try for conversation a painful amount of time. Until Cora dismissed her in the least subtle way she could find.

Papa would rather spend time with  _him_ in the park, not being one for conversation himself. But whenever he needed a break, he’d often be approached by Mrs. French and Mrs. Humbert with friendly remarks. They’d usually joke about their common background and joke about how their kids would probably inherit their accents– even though Bae sounded nothing like Papa nor mommy. Sometimes he wished he did though; both Graham and Belle sounded like their parents, and while the other kids made fun of them for it, Bae always thought having an accent was really cool.

Mrs. French and Mrs. Humbert often tried to befriend Milah, but his mother didn’t care much for them. She never liked the Irish very much, and as much as Colette’s father had been an Englishman, the fact that she was half-Parisian completely invalidated her English heritage. Being married to anAussie did not help her case either.

Bae didn’t care where Belle’s parents came from. She was sweet and kind and she talked in a funny way. Just like Graham. And as much as mommy tried to push him into playing with Cora Mills’ daughter, he didn’t like Regina very much – and Regina couldn’t care less about him either. She was twelve. She was too mature for child’s play.

The thing was, Bae was not in the mood for child’s play either that day, no matter how much Graham tried to get him involved in a soccer match. All he could think about was his father on the floor, the tears flooding his eyes.

When he asked her for the third time if they could go home and see Papa, though, mommy turned serious. “Baelfire, I’m your mother. I’m the one who’s suppose to worry about these things, not you. Go play. It’s alright.”

But it wasn’t. And he knew it.

Finally, after over two hours sitting around and waiting, his mother gave up on the fun and announced they were going home, much to his relief.

Since he didn’t do a lot of fun things, she offered and insisted that they stopped for ice cream. Bae claimed he did not want it, but she was adamant. All he could do was eat really fast.

Once Milah opened the door, she greeted her husband in a cheerful tone. “Hi, Rumple. Did you have as much fun as we did today?”

Papa was still on the floor. He had pushed himself to an upright position, but his legs were outstretched in front of him. Apart from sitting on the floor, he was exactly how they had left him, almost four hours ago.

The moment he realized that, Baelfire knew why he wanted to come home so badly: he had always known, from the moment mommy dragged him away, that this was the way he would find his father.

Mommy lied.

He needed their help.

He couldn’t get off the floor.

Bae rushed to wrapped his arms around his neck.

“Are you okay?” he murmured.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Rumple answered, without much conviction.

“I told you, Bae,” Milah said, a little upset. “Papa is strong.”

“Go-go upstairs and take a shower, alright?” his father said, trying to smile. “I’ll have a little word with mommy.”

Bae looked at him, then at his mom, whose face had turned from a smile to an angry look.

“It’s alright, Bae,” he insisted. “Just go.”

Bae climbed up slowly, always throwing looks over his shoulder. His father must have thought he was out of ear’s range once he vanished upstairs, because he whispered, “I need to go to the hospital.”

Milah didn’t bother to whisper back. “You don’t need the hospital. It’s a twisted ankle.”

“Milah,” he hissed, pleadingly, “my ankle is  _broken_ , you  _need_  to drive me-”

She tutted him. “You just need to lie down. I’ll make the bed and give you a pack of ice.”

“ _Look at it_!” he hissed. “I can’t even stand up.”

There was a moment of silence and Bae hoped that his mother would just get the phone and call a doctor.

Instead, she said, “Come here, honey. I’ll give you a hand up the stairs.”

“Milah-”

“Rumple, don’t be stubborn,” Milah said, very firm, but not unkind. “Give your son a good example and stop whining.”

There was groaning and moaning from his father’s voice. He sounded hurt. Very hurt. But Bae hid himself in the bathroom and waited for them to pass.

By the time he was cleaned and calm enough to get out, his mother was downstairs, fixing dinner, and Papa was lying on his bed, his right ankle resting on top of a pile of pillows. A pack of ice covering his skin. Even though Bae couldn’t see it, his foot looked swollen and with the wrong color.

Papa had covered his face with his hands and Bae could only see the tip of his nose pointing at the ceiling when he walked in.

“Are you really alright, Papa?”

Papa took a moment too long to remove the hands from his face and give him a small smile.

“Yes, son. It’s alright.”

“Aren’t you going to the hospital?”

“We’re waiting it out to see if it gets better.”

“But are you sure?” Bae all but begged him, stealing a glance at his ankle. “You’re hurt.”

“Yes, love. Come here,” he said, opening his arms and taking his son into an embrace. “Papa is fine.” He sighed. “I’m fine.”

His ankle didn’t get better. Not the next day, nor the next. On Tuesday, finally, Bae came home from school to find his leg properly secured in a cast.

In the kitchen, mommy was hurriedly preparing dinner, eyes low and unusually quiet. Papa on the couch, leg up, looking more relaxed. And yet, there was something tense about his shoulders.

For the next eight weeks, his parents didn’t talk more than what was strictly necessary. Not even the snide remarks mommy would occasionally slip out during dinner. If Bae mentioned his leg, Papa would dismiss the question with very vague answers, and mommy would leave the room.

The night before the cast came off, Bae asked if Papa was glad to get rid of the crutches.

He threw mommy a side glance through narrow eyes and explained that he had waited too long to go to the doctor. Maybe he’d need the crutches for much longer.

Suddenly, mommy broke down crying, scaring them both. “I didn’t know!” she screamed, on the verge of hysteria. “I didn’t know!” And rushed out of the living room.

Papa sighed, angry.

But that time, he followed her.

Bae stayed behind, still thinking about his mother’s sobs.

_I didn’t know! I didn’t know!_

Well, he  _did_. He always knew.

He should have made her come home faster.

Papa’s ankle never did go back to normal, despite the physical therapy. He would be spending a lot less time running after Bae in the park and a lot more time sitting with the other parents now. But he did get better.

And when mommy gave him a very nice cane the day he was done with physical therapy, he grasped its golden handle and allowed whatever was left of his anger to slip through his fingers. And gave her a smile.

She was forgiven and everything was forgotten.

Bae watched them kiss with a tight feeling in his gut, as if he knew at the age of seven that there was something so very wrong with that.

No, mommy was not as nice as he thought she were.

Especially to Papa.

**Author's Note:**

> A list of all one-shots in verse chronological order can be found here: http://annievh.tumblr.com/post/102166515522/behind-closed-doors-warnings-domestic-abuse


End file.
